I have all my shirts laundered. With light starch. There's a nice little dry-cleaning establishment in the lobby of my building where I have everything "done." There's a nice elderly Korean woman there who knows me. And my last name. And my apartment number.
But that's not the weird part. . . .
The moment I get my laundered shirts up to my apartment, I take them off the wire hangers and transfer them onto a blue, plastic hanger in my closet.
All the hangers in my closet have to be blue plastic ones. I'll allow two sizes: small blue hangers and large blue hangers.
Then I take the wire hanger from the cleaners and hang it in a small closet in my apartment.
Once I get ten of them, I bundle them with two twistie-ties from the grocery store (green ones that I collect) and take them back to the Korean woman downstairs who does my shirts. However! I always save at least two bundles of ten before I bring them back to her.
Otherwise, it'll look like I'm just a weird, obsessive-compulsive guy!!
You know the wire hangers for the pants that have the cardboard on the bottom?
I HATE those!
They go down the trash chute the moment I transfer my pants to my big blue hangers.
Instantly!
Oh my God! I HATE them!
So yes, my closet consists of ONLY blue plastic hangers.
Large and small.
No wire hangers.
And, that's about as OCD as I'll ever get.
Otherwise, I'm bloody all over the place!
Oh, here's a cute story about the Korean woman downstairs. . .
Occasionally, when I'd pick up my shirts from the Korean woman downstairs, I'd notice that a button would be missing here and there.
No big deal. After all, I'm a grandson of "Budgie" and completely capable of sewing on a button when I need to.
But!! When many buttons began missing from my Alexander Julian "Colours" collection of shirts, I did raise my concerns to the nice Korean woman downstairs!
"Rrreeer!!"
I showed her an example of where a button was missing.
She examined it. Pawed at it. Selected an appropriate button.
Looked up at me and said in a very soft, wan voice,
"Awwww, . in one hour . . . .
. . . . .YOU COME BACK!!!!!!
Oh my God!
She scared the crap out of me!
Anyway, she loves it when I bring my nice bundled coat hangers to her.
We have an understanding.
And she does my missing buttons.
No complaints.
Not to be all Joan Crawford but wire hangers aren't good for your clothes.
ReplyDeleteThey're terrific for beating the children.